You Always You
by Sherlockian87
Summary: Molly has a difficult night, and turns to the one person she knows she can always trust to rescue her. - I'm not entirely sure when this is supposed to be taking place, perhaps after the final episode of the third season? Either that or it's taking place within a bit of an AU. (I'm new here!) This was originally intended to be a one-shot, but apparently the muse has struck!
1. Part 1

You. Always You.

* * *

His lips were parted.

His mouth was poised to speak.

"Not. A. Word." She grumbled as she stepped slowly into the kitchen, her fingertips massaging her temples. "I am not in the mood for 'Deduction Time.'" She sat down at the table, in the chair across from him.

He had pressed his lips together, and was now nudging a steaming cup towards her. She eyed it warily.

"What is it?"

He nudged the mug closer, "It will ease the pain."

She continued to eye it, not making a move towards it.

He let out a loud huff, "Oh for goodness sake Molly! I'm a graduate chemist! Don't you trust me?"

Her eyes met his and he simply stared back at her with raised eyebrows. With an annoyed huff of her own she reached out and took up the mug.

"Oh God, it's simply awful." She murmured between sips.

"Drink it. All of it."

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows, "Yes mother."

The corner of his mouth twitched, she could tell he was trying not to smile. After a few more sips of the dreadful brew, it suddenly hit her. Sherlock Holmes was here in her flat, sitting at her table. It wasn't exactly a strange sight; it was one that she was in fact quite accustomed to. But he hadn't used her flat as a bolt hole in months. Many months. And for him to be here now, at this time, with her in her current state, left her rather confused.

"Why are you here?" She clamped a hand over her mouth before moving it away, "Oh God, I'm sorry, that came out far harsher than I meant it to." She kept her eyes down, focusing on the last bit of liquid in the mug.

"You called me. Last night. You called me. You never call me."

Memories flooded back to her; fuzzy, but clear enough.

_She had gone to a pub with a few co-workers from Bart's after work. Tom had been there, snogging a woman that Molly had seen before at his office. Seeing the two of them together like that made it very clear to Molly that he had been indeed cheating on her. Tom never once became aware of her presence, barely removing himself from his lady-loves lips. The sight of it was actually quite sickening. Horrified by the thought that she should have put an end to their relationship much sooner, Molly found herself consuming alcohol at a far faster rate than usual; downing several pints of beer within a matter of minutes. Her co-workers started doing shots, and having never been one to hold her liquor after the second shot she was finding herself feeling quite dizzy. Excusing herself to the loo she stumbled slightly, but made it without falling over and locked herself into one of the stalls. It was almost as if the click of the lock signified a stab in her heart, as she felt a massive wave of emotions pour over her. The sight of Tom in another woman's arms had undone her in far more ways than she realized. It wasn't him exactly; it was just that he was another failed relationship. Further proof that she was going to end up alone. She fell to the floor, burying her face in her knees as she hugged them to her chest. The tears were pouring out of her now and she couldn't stop them. She wanted so badly to leave. To be in the safety and warmth of her bed. But she didn't want to risk it. She was too terrified of the possibility of Tom seeing her. Of him seeing her so upset. And possibly triumphing over that fact. But she had to get out. She couldn't stay here. There was not a single friend out there in the pub that would understand and help her. She felt so horribly alone. Pulling out her mobile she started to scroll through her contacts, hiccupping slightly as she tried to calm down her tears. Her thumb hesitated over John's name before quickly scrolling passed it, stopping on Sherlock's. The number dialed. _

"Oh. Oh God. Why didn't you call John or Greg?"

Not getting an answer she looked up. He looked confused.

"Lestrade." She stated flatly.

"Ahh." He paused, hesitating, clearly feeling uncomfortable. "Because you asked for me. You wanted me."

She looked away from him, too embarrassed to keep eye contact.

"I'm … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you through that. You shouldn't have had to see me like that."

"Molly … that …_ man_ doesn't deserve a single tear from you."

"It wasn't just about him. It was about every single relationship that I've ever had. They all failed. It was the complete and utter realization that I'm going to always be alone."

He didn't respond to this. Of course he wouldn't. Sentiment. It wasn't something he believed in.

"Why, why are you still here? Did you actually stay the whole night? You didn't have to."

He shifted in his seat, leaning back slightly, "I stayed … because you wanted me to. You asked me to."

Placing the mug on the table she leaned foreword on her elbows, covering her face with her hands, "I didn't beg, did I?"

"Mmmm …"

She lifted her head slightly, peering at him over her fingers. He was smirking slightly. _Smug bastard. _

"You can go. I'm sure you want to. I'm perfectly all right now."

His smirk fell away, his face turning blank. He stood up from the table, "All right, fine. If that's what you want." He strode out of the kitchen.

_Oh wait. No. Not good. _

She mentally kicked herself for being so ungrateful towards him, standing up as quickly as she could she hurried after him.

"Sherlock, wait."

His back was to her. He had his coat on and was doing up his scarf. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but the only word that came out was, "Why?"

He slowly turned towards her, their eyes meeting.

"Because _I _wanted to."

Several moments passed before he spoke again, "Molly, you helped me in my time of need, why should I not help you in yours?"

A few more moments passed. This time she broke the silence.

"What do you want?"

He turned so that his entire body was facing her.

"What do you need?"

He took a step towards her, tugging his scarf so that it came loose before dropping it to the floor.

"What do you need?" She repeated.

He took another step towards her. And another. Until his body was almost flush against hers. Reaching up he cupped her face in his hands, his fingertips brushing over the apples of her cheeks. His lips were hovering over hers as he gave his answer.

"_You_. Always you."


	2. Part 2

Part Two

* * *

Her lips were parted.

Her mouth was poised to speak.

"Molly …" He mumbled her name into her skin as his body shifted against hers, drawing her closer, "Don't."

He knew what she was thinking. He knew what she had been about to say. Pressing her lips together she buried her nose in his curls. He mumbled again, but this time she couldn't hear what he said. His face was lying between her breasts. The very ones he had once told her were too small. Clearly he did not think so now.

Suddenly he began to press feather light kisses upon her, slowly moving upwards to her neck. She giggled softly, wondering how it was possible that Sherlock Holmes could in fact be such a physical being.

"Only with you." He murmured in answer to her question that she knew she had not spoken out loud. Their eyes met as he hovered above her. What was this strange connection that they had with each other? How was it that they were two such separate halves, but when together were completely whole?

"I'm sorry that I took so long. Forgive me."

She smiled up at him, placing her hands along his jaw-line. That very jaw-line that had made her go weak in the knees all those years ago, "It was worth the wait."

He leaned down pressing his lips to hers, moaning softly into her mouth as she ran her fingers through his curls. Breaking apart their kiss, he buried his face in her neck.

"I am a ridiculous man, Molly."

She couldn't help but smile as she hugged him closer, "Yes. You are."

He lifted his head and looked at her. She was certain he would be appalled if he could see the state that his curls were in, but she rather liked this look on him.

"Yes, you are." She repeated, "But you are _my _ridiculous man, and I wouldn't want you any other way."

He looked away from her, a wide range of emotions washing over his face. It was very possible that somewhere within the previous night, Sherlock had broken apart only to be put back together by Molly.

"I don't deserve you."

He still wasn't looking at her. She cupped his face in her hands once more, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"Yes you do." She told him almost fiercely.

"Even when I say such awful things? Always?"

"Yes. Even then. You need to stop punishing yourself Sherlock. That's what you've done your whole life. You need to stop. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. You deserve to be loved."

He stopped her mouth with his own, pulling her in for a passionate kiss. He spoke between the moments they parted for breath.

"I'll make you miserable."

"No you won't."

"I'll forget those dates most humans deem important."

"I don't care."

"I'll make you angry."

"I count on it."

"I'll leave you alone for days on end when I'm on a case."

"I know. It's all right."

He pulled away from her now, both panting heavily, their legs entwined.

"I rather enjoy the thought of coming home to you."

She raised her eyebrows, "Oh, am I to move into Baker Street now?"

He began placing kisses along her jaw-line, "Of course. My bed is far more comfortable, and you can't possibly fathom staying any longer in this ridiculous excuse for a flat!"

"Hey!" She swatted at the back of his head, he chuckled as he began to kiss his way down her neck, "I rather like my flat, thank you very much! Although … although …" She momentarily lost her ability for speech as he suckled at her skin, "Although I do like Baker Street quite a lot."

He lifted his head, smiling down at her, "It doesn't take much to convince you, does it?"

She swatted him again but this time he avoided it, grabbing her hand before kissing the inside of her wrist.

"Don't think that you will be able to continue to flirt with me to get what you want."

He adopted an innocent expression, "Oh I wouldn't think of it! Just a few choice words whispered in your ear should do it. For example …" He leaned down, his nose brushing along the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I know how to make you scream."

She swallowed, hard.

"You are a very smug bastard."

He simply smirked at her.

Huffing slightly she moved to sit up, "I need to get ready for work."

"What? No you don't!" He grabbed her arm, pulling her back down onto the bed.

"Sherlock!" She said in a warning tone, as he laid down on his back, placing her on top of him.

"You've called in sick." He stated simply, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Oh, I have, have I?" She wiggled her hips slightly, causing him to breathe in sharply. He put her in this position so he very well may suffer for it.

"Ye-es."

It was her turn to smirk at him. But with a quick shift of their bodies he was on top of her. Who was smirking now?

"I have no intention of either one of us leaving this bed today." He breathed in sharply again as she moved herself beneath him. How was she able to do that?

"Wasted … too … much … time." He panted out.

"I agree." She pulled him down to her, shaking slightly at the closeness of their bodies.

Neither one of them spoke a word for some time, allowing their movements to speak for themselves. Later, when they were both quite spent, Molly's head resting on his chest, Sherlock spoke something that he never thought he would.

"I'm not one for titles, which is why I always brushed aside the offer of knighthood … but … I … I do like the sound of … being your husband."

He felt Molly tense up, before she peered up at him with wide eyes.

"Not … good?" He questioned.

"Not … bad …?" Only Sherlock Holmes would ever not consider the concept of moving too quickly.

"Well, why ever not? We've known each other for years, and yes we have only just started this rather enjoyable part of our relationship … but …" He trailed off, the look in her eyes told him enough.

"Ask me. Properly."

He sniffed loudly. She moved her body upwards until her face was directly above his.

"Ask me. Properly." She repeated.

"Ridiculous human conventions." He muttered underneath his breath.

"Sherlock. Ask me properly, or my answer will be no. And I will not move into Baker Street."

He started to pout, looking rather like a lost puppy, "Fine!" He sat up quickly, moving her with him, causing her to straddle his waist.

Refusing to allow herself to be distracted by their current position she adopted an impassive expression and locked eyes with his.

He blinked rapidly several times.

"Molly Hooper, will you … marry me?"

She fought to keep her expression blank, but only managed to for several seconds. She couldn't help but laugh as she pressed her lips to his.

"Yes! Yes I will!"

Letting out a sigh of relief he kissed her back, tightening his arms about her waist so that her body melded into his. It was some time later before either one spoke again.


	3. Part 3

Their lips were parted.

Their mouths were poised to speak.

"Spit it out John … Mary. Stop sitting there gaping like fish." Sherlock crossed his arms, waiting.

They pressed their lips together. John was the first to speak. He looked at Molly.

"You married Sherlock."

"Yes."

He looked at Sherlock.

"You married Molly."

"Yes. Obviously."

"You married each other."

Molly and Sherlock spoke in unison, "Yes."

"Well, I never thought that I would live to see the day."

"It's about bloody time!"

John turned to look at his wife.

"I always knew there was something between the two of you. I could just sense it!"

Sherlock eyed her quizzically, "Did you?"

Molly felt a blush rise from her neck to her cheeks.

Mary continued, "Oh most definitely! The way you two would look at each other when the other one wasn't aware! I was getting ready to have a firm conversation with the pair of you, glad you worked it out all on your own."

Unconsciously Sherlock reached out and took up Molly's hand.

"Does Mrs. Hudson know?"

"Yes John, of course. She was annoyingly exuberant. Although, she did make some strange comments about you and I."

John grimaced slightly, "And Mycroft?"

"He officiated the marriage."

Mary rolled her eyes, "That must have been romantic."

Molly covered her mouth with her free hand to hide her smile. Coughing slightly she moved to stand up, "Would anyone like some tea."

John stood up to follow her, "I'll help you."

Sherlock kept his eyes on Molly as she moved into the kitchen, while Mary started to pepper him with questions.

"Are you aware of what you've gotten yourself in to?"

Molly spun around to face John, a tea cup in each hand, "Yes. Of course."

"It's just, he's Sherlock. I would hate to see you get hurt. You know what he's like."

She placed the tea cups down and turned the kettle on to boil, "Yes. I do. That's why I married him."

"Well, if anyone can keep him in check, it's you."

Molly smiled as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Are you kissing my wife, John?" Sherlock yelled from the living room.

John rolled his eyes as Molly chuckled.

"Only on the cheek!" He retorted as he walked far enough out of the kitchen to give Sherlock a well-deserved glare.

Molly carried out the tray with the tea things, John following her with the plate of biscuits since it wouldn't fit on the tray.

John and Mary watched as Molly sat back down on the sofa beside Sherlock, noting how his arm instantly went about her waist, pulling her close to him.

The Watson's stayed for a half an hour longer. Molly walked them downstairs to the front door. Sherlock did not. Something had apparently sent him into his mind palace.

"I don't know what it is about the two of you that make you fit so well together, but it's definitely something!" Mary said as she hugged her, "Keep that man on his toes! He needs it! I don't think John ever gave him a good enough fight back."

"Hey! I would have you know …" John trailed off, shaking his head. "Do not hesitate to call me if he starts doing any of his … Sherlockian things. Perhaps I will be able to enlighten you."

Molly laughed as he gave her a hug, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind!"

With them gone, the door locked and bolted, she began to make her way back up to 221B. She opened the door and stepped inside. Before she had even gotten a chance to close the door behind her she had become engulfed by the tall form of Sherlock Holmes, pressing her into the wall.

"Sherlock …!" She murmured as his mouth covered hers, kissing her deeply.

"I thought they'd … never … leave." He panted between kisses.

"That's generally the main reason for going on a honeymoon … to be a lone."

He grimaced at her choice of words, "As much as I rather despise that inane tradition, I must admit the alone part of it is rather enticing!"

Molly rolled her eyes in amusement before pulling him down for another kiss, "We're alone now."

"Mmm … yes we are!" Without another word he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her towards the bedroom,_ their_ bedroom.

She couldn't help but laugh as he kicked the door shut behind them, before placing her on the bed. She tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket, making him almost fall on top of her. Giggling she drew him in for a kiss, as she hastily began to unbutton his shirt. Within a matter of seconds she had succeeded in unbuttoning it entirely, slipping it off of his shoulders.

"You seem rather anxious Mrs. Holmes!"

It thrilled her from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes to hear him call her that.

"As do you Mr. Holmes!"

His hands had slipped under her own shirt and were deftly working to remove her bra.

They kissed again, their hands moving rapidly, as they quickly rid themselves of their clothing.

Like a key into a lock, a puzzle piece with its counterpart; their bodies fit together perfectly. A contented sigh left her lips as he held her close.

"Sherlock …"

"Mmm?" He was rather pre-occupied at the moment, cataloguing the sensations running through his body into his mind palace.

"You were right. Your bed is more comfortable."

Snapping out of his mind palace he turned his body towards hers. The feel of her skin against his own was something he had already catalogued, but it still caused his breath to hitch slightly.

"Our bed." He stated firmly, as he pressed himself up against her.

"Mmm … our bed."


	4. Part 4

His lips were parted.

His mouth was poised to speak.

But more so he was trying not to laugh. Laugh at the whirlwind that was his wife as she tore about their bedroom.

"Where the hell is my shoe? Sherlock stop staring at me and help me look for it! You didn't steal it to perform experiments on it did you?"

She was standing at the edge of their bed, hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

"What? No! No I did not! I promised that I wouldn't do any experiments on your things!"

He sat up reaching out to grab her.

"Oh no you don't! You made me late for work the passed three days! I'm not letting that happen again!"

He leaned back into his pillow, pouting.

"Find yourself a case, you ridiculous man! I know your inbox is bursting. AHA!" She found her shoe and slipped it on.

"Trivial." He spat out. "Your body is far more fascinating than any case. I do like discovering the reactions I can get out of you when I touch you in certain places, in certain ways."

Molly simply shook her head, "Incorrigible."

He pouted again, when she kissed him quickly and hurried out of his grasp. He had hoped that he had convinced her to stay.

An hour or so later he had in fact found himself a case. A case that required him to go to the morgue at Bart's. Perhaps he was a little too pleased by this fact.

Molly was filling out forms when he strolled in. She was not surprised by his presence for he had sent her a text beforehand. But her face did light up at the sight of him.

"Hi!"

He smiled at her, but her expression changed slightly when she saw that DI Lestrade and Sgt. Donovan had come in behind him.

"Oh! Hello Greg, Sally."

After they said their hello's, Molly turned to Sherlock, "You want to see Mr. Chekhov, correct?"

"Yes. His wife is rather distraught and convinced that he was murdered and did not die of a heart attack. I believe that this is true, and that she is in fact the murderer."

Sgt. Donovan crossed her arms over her chest and let out a loud huff, "Oh come on now Freak! The spouse can't be the guilty party every time!"

Sherlock was never one to visibly wince, but Molly could always see what others did not.

She slammed down the files she had been sifting through, causing everyone to jump. She spun around so that she was facing Sally, her eyes filled with rage.

"Will you please stop calling my husband names?"

Sally's mouth dropped open, as did Lestrade's.

"Hu-husband?" She spluttered, "You two are married? To each other?" She threw her hands up in the air, "The world has gone mad!" Turning on her heel she hurried out of the morgue. Lestrade was still standing there with his mouth hanging open.

"Well … I … congratulations?"

Sherlock hadn't taken his eyes off of Molly. He took a step towards her, "Lestrade." He took another step. "I would highly recommend leaving now, unless you wish to see me kissing my wife."

Lestrade started to back away, "Right uhh … talk to you later. Molly." With that said, he too was gone.

Sherlock was holding her face in his hands, "You defended me."

She reached up and placed her hands over his, "Yes. Of course I did."

"I love you, Molly Holmes."

Her eyes widened. It was the first time he had ever spoken those words. She hadn't ever expected him to. She didn't need him to. She knew that he did.

"I love you too."

He pressed his lips to hers and it was the slowest and sweetest kiss he had ever given her. But she wanted more. Slipping her hands into his hair she deepened the kiss. He groaned into her mouth as he pressed his body into hers, causing her to bump into the autopsy table.

"Sherlock, this is highly inappropriate!"

"Since when is it inappropriate for a husband to kiss his wife?"

"When their in a morgue."

He sniffed, "Fine! Than let me take you home where the setting will be more 'appropriate.'' His hands were on either side of her now, palms pressed into the table, locking her in.

"Sherlock, I'm working! I can't just leave! And you're working too! What about your case?"

"Solved it. I told you, it was the wife!"

He leaned down to kiss her again, but Molly shook het head.

"No."

"No? No! You're not supposed to be able to resist me!"

She laughed at his exasperated expression.

"My abilities are slipping! You've ruined me!" He started to pout.

"Oh no you don't!" She quickly ducked under his arm, stepping away from him.

"Don't you have an office?"

"Yes."

"Well … can't we?"

"NO!"

He pouted again.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm supposed to be working!"

"Just once?"

"NO."

"Please?"

"Sherlock!"

He had her pressed up against the table again. Her hands were on his chest, trying to hold him back.

"I know your office door has a lock on it. And that it is no where near anyone else's."

She was biting her bottom lip. For a reason that he couldn't quite comprehend this was making him want her more.

"You really are the most insufferable man!"

"I did warn you!" His eyes widened slightly, "Is that – is that a yes?"

She nodded her head before pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Her hands started wandering and he felt as if his brain was starting to short-circuit.

"Molly…"

She seemed to have forgotten the idea of her office. As much as he did want her, need her, he didn't exactly like the fact that anyone could walk in on them at any moment. He gently pushed her away, grabbing a hold of her hands.

"Office. Now." He panted out.

She nodded again, taking his hand in hers and leading him out of the morgue. What a sight the pair of them would be if anyone had come walking down the hall. It wasn't every day that you saw Sherlock Holmes being led, practically dragged, by a very determined looking Molly.

They reached her office and she slammed the door shut behind them, locking it. He smirked at her, loving the fact that he worked her up as much as she worked up him. She nudged him towards her desk, the backs of his knees bumping into it.

"You have a half an hour, Mr. Holmes."

"Half an hour? That's it?"

"Yes. So let's get started."


	5. Part 5

Her lips were parted.

Her mouth was poised to speak.

"Just say it Molly. Even though I'm certain I know what you're thinking."

She swallowed before at last saying, "Are you sure about this? Because the last time I was filling in for John … and now that he's here … isn't three a crowd?"

Sherlock exhaled loudly, "You were not filling in for John. I wanted your help. I wanted you with me."

She smiled as she remembered that he had told her that she was not being John that she was being herself.

"And you're far more observant that John could ever be."

She laughed as he smiled down at her. She hooked her arm with his and leaned back into the cushion of the cab that was taking them to the crime scene where John would be meeting them.

Half an hour later the murder was solved, due to Molly's excellent observation skills. Normally Sherlock would have been rather put out by the fact that his deductions had not led him to solving it, but clearly married life had quite changed his head, as well as his heart.

John didn't quite know what to make of this new Sherlock, having expected him to delve moodily into his mind palace and not surface until hours or days later. But instead he simply looked extremely pleased, and in fact (if this was at all really possible) rather proud that _his_ _wife _had figured out whom the killer was. All John was certain of was that this was definitely a case to be written about on his blog.

Much later that evening, all was quiet at 221B. The take away was eaten, although it had grown rather cold before it was touched, for the proud Mr. Holmes had insisted on letting his wife know how much she had impressed him that day, several times to be exact.

The pair of them were now sitting on the sofa, Sherlock in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of his many dressing gowns, while Molly wore one of her colorful jumpers, just that and her knickers. A fire was going, the only light in the room except the small lamp behind Molly's head. Sherlock was on his laptop, sitting on one end of the sofa. Molly was stretched out on the rest of it, reading a science journal, her feet pressed into his side. His arm was resting on her legs, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on her skin. If anyone had asked, he would claim that it helped him to think. Suddenly the quiet was broken.

Sherlock had made a strange sort of choking noise.

"What the hell?" He muttered, "Fuck him."

Molly dropped what she was reading, shocked to hear Sherlock speak like that. She looked at him but all he did was stare blankly at the screen before him.

"Sherlock?"

She sat up, moving over to him. Still no response. Clearly he had slipped into one of his mind palace moments. Deciding to forego trying to snap him out of it she slipped the laptop off of his lap and placed it on hers.

She made a strange sort of choking noise.

"This can't be! He wouldn't! Damn. Bugger! Fucking arse!"

Apparently the sound of Molly cursing was enough to bring Sherlock back to the present. His lap felt strangely empty. He blinked rapidly, then saw that Molly was sitting next to him, holding his laptop and scrolling through John's latest write-up on his blog.

Suddenly she shoved the computer back onto Sherlock's lap before moving over to the other end of the sofa and curling up into a ball. This was not exactly the reaction he had expected. Anger, yes. He was angry too. But this? This … sadness? He couldn't figure it out.

Closing his laptop, he placed it on the coffee table before standing up. He stepped over to Molly, bending over to scoop her up in his arms. He carried her in the direction of their bedroom.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you back to bed. You're upset. And as your husband it is my duty to make you less upset."

In spite of the damper in her mood she found that she couldn't help but giggle, "Sherlock, sex isn't always the solution to everything."

He laid her down on the bed, stretching himself out beside her before answering, "That wasn't what I was implying, although I don't see as to why it's not, I think it is a rather wonderful solution." He took up her hand and kissed the palm of it tenderly, "Tell me why what John wrote on his blog bothered you so much."

If she hadn't been well aware of all of the medical science that could dispute the argument, she was certain that her heart would burst with all of the love she felt for this man before her.

"It's – it's not what he wrote. I don't mind it actually; I thought it was rather sweet."

Sherlock grimaced at her choice of words, but said nothing.

"It was – it was the comments that people left. He should have disabled them …"

Molly wasn't looking at him; her eyes were downcast, fixed on their joined hands.

"Oh."

Her eyes fluttered up to meet his.

"That's what bothered you so much? What other people think?"

Her eyes dropped away again.

"Ye-es. When it comes to being the wife of The Great Sherlock Holmes, yes!"

He let out a loud sniff, "Who cares what anyone thinks? Especially the pathetic dolts that read John's blog!" He moved until his body was hovering over hers, "To me you are great, and wonderful, and smart, and beautiful." He drove each word home with a kiss, "The only opinion you should care about is mine!"

She laughed and he smiled.

"That's better; I don't like seeing you sad."

As he moved to kiss her again his mobile in the pocket of his dressing gown notified that he had received a text. She giggled as he rolled his eyes in annoyance, fishing the phone out of his pocket.

"Ahh … it's from John. 'It was bound to happen sooner or later.' Hmph." He tossed the mobile onto the nearby nightstand, "Clearly he thinks he did us some sort of favor. Which I can't exactly make any sense out of because—"

"Sherlock."

"Mmmm?"

"Shut up and kiss me."


	6. Part 6

**This is a much lighter chapter than my last one!**

**on tumblr? my personal one is thesecitystreets and my fanfic one is sherlockian87**

**:)**

* * *

Chapter Six – Together, even when We are Apart

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in_

_my heart) i am never without it(anywhere_

_i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done_

_by only me is your doing, my darling)_

_ - i carry your heart, e.e. cummings_

* * *

Sherlock had been abnormally restless. Yes, abnormal even for him! Molly wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He wasn't restless because he was bored, Lestrade was constantly texting him with cases, and it wasn't for a lack of experiments either. He had converted the empty flat of 221C, with Mrs. Hudson's permission, into his own personal lab. For hours on end he would disappear down there. Molly was strictly forbidden from entering, leaving her with no way to communicate with him except through texts; texts that he was usually oblivious to. Whenever this would happen she would either have Mrs. Hudson check on him, or send John (if he could get away from Mary and Amelia for a bit) to yell at him and bring him back to his senses.

Sherlock always made up for his absences though, devoting several hours to her, and when they laid in their post-coital bliss he would tell her about his cases or the experiments he was working on. She would too, discuss with him about how her paper was coming along, and any of the new findings she may have come across.

Molly was recounting all of these facts as she watched Sherlock pace the living room. He hadn't spoken a word for several hours. He never paced while he was in his Mind Palace, but it was clear that he was deep in thought. She knew better than to question him, knowing that this would only irritate him. But still, it worried her how he was acting. She at last decided to text both Lestrade and John; wanting some answers and hoping that they could give them to her.

John's reply caused a snort to erupt from her, "What's the annoying dick done now? – JW"

But Lestrade's brought it all to light, "There's been a triple murder in Reading. He's refused to take the case though; he's been refusing every case that would take him out of London. Has been doing that for some time now. Actually, ever since you got pregnant. In all honesty, I think he's afraid to leave you and the baby. Who knew that Sherlock Holmes could be afraid? But really, I don't blame him; I was the same way with my own wife when she was pregnant. – GL"

Putting down her phone she looked up at Sherlock, who was still pacing. How had this man who had once been so appalled by emotion, and love, and any sort of expression of feelings, become so selfless? Was she truly the cause of it all? Had she really played a part in helping him become the man that he had tried so hard to repress and hide for so many years?

"Sherlock …"

He paused mid-stride.

"Sherlock come and sit down."

He did; a flurry of pyjama bottoms and dressing gown. He stretched himself out, bringing his head to rest on her seven and a half month belly. She was glad that he chose to face her. She watched as he visibly relaxed and closed his eyes.

"I think you should take the Reading case."

His eyes flew open, meeting hers.

"Been talking with Lestrade, I see."

She smiled down at him, "I wanted to know what was going on inside of that head of yours! Why don't you take the case?"

He grumbled for a moment before replying, "I don't like the thought of being away from you. Reading isn't very close by, and I don't know how long I would be gone for. Plus there's John, he feels the same way; he doesn't want to leave Mary alone with Amelia."

She ran her fingers through his hair, "I don't want you to feel tied down because of me."

He reached up grabbing her hand, "I don't! Not at all."

"Sherlock, this is your job, you should take this case. Perhaps if this would make John feel better, and you, maybe Mary and Amelia could stay here while you both are away? Than neither one of us would be alone? Hmmm?"

He looked at her for a moment, blinking rapidly. John had once told her that he called this his "computing" face.

"I … that's a brilliant idea. Always missing something." Sherlock muttered the last bit under his breath before looking back up at her, "Molly, what would I do without you?"

She laughed, shaking her head, "So you'll take the case then?"

He sat up, leaning forward to kiss her, "Yes! If John will agree with your proposal. He'd be an idiot not to. I'm sure Mary will be more than happy to come and stay here. You tow can have some … what do you call it? 'Quality girl time!'"

Molly rolled her eyes at the expression on his face as she spoke the last bit. He quickly texted John as he began to tap his fingers impatiently on his knee, waiting for a reply.

* * *

Mary and Amelia had settled in comfortably. Mrs. Hudson had brought up tea and sandwiches; more so as an excuse to coddle and coo over Amelia.

"If you ever need a break my dear, a moment to yourself perhaps, do not hesitate to bring her down to me. I do so love babies! Shame I was never able to have one myself."

"Your husband ran a drug cartel, hardly a wise choice to procreate with!" Sherlock stated matter-of-factly as he walked into the room.

"Don't be so rude Sherlock!"

Molly gave his arm a swat as Mrs. Hudson made her way back downstairs. Molly could have sworn that she heard her muttering something about "your mother" and "have a chat with."

John came walking down from his old room, stepping over to Mary and looking down lovingly at Amelia.

"It's strange that you're staying here and I'm not. It's a bit surreal."

Mary placed her hand on his arm as she looked up at him, "We'll be fine John."

Molly smiled as she watched the two of them. Her attention was diverted though when Sherlock took her hand and gave it a gentle tug. He led her to their bedroom and shut the door.

"What is it?" She asked, expecting more instructions on what she should and shouldn't do, to remember to eat … etc. The man was an enigma!

Instead of answering her question he gathered her into his arms, holding her close, burying his nose into her neck. She reveled in the warmth of his arms, knowing that it would be several days at least, if not longer, before she would be in these arms again. He pulled away from her slightly, but not weakening his hold on her, only to rest his forehead against hers. Their eyes connecting.

"Ever since I lost my dog Redbeard, when I was a boy, I have kept everyone at arms length. I was afraid to let anyone in. I didn't want to experience that feeling of loss again. When I first met John I realized the companionship that I had been missing, withholding myself from for years. To lose him would be a devastating blow, but nothing like the loss of you."

She stared up at him for a few moments, awed by his confession and also slightly frightened by it, "Where is all this coming from? Aren't you the one who is going off to track down a dangerous murderer?"

He sighed, "Yes, but I just wanted you to know how important you are to me, and how much I will miss you."

She leaned into him, "I'll miss you too."

He kissed her, cradling her face in his hands before leaning down to place a kiss on her belly. They walked back out into the living room.

"Come John, we have a murderer to catch!"

With a flurry of coats and scarves the two men left the flat. Both Mary and Molly exchanged a look before rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

"And he thinks that Sherlock is the only drama queen."

Molly burst out laughing at Mary's statement. She quickly joined in, and to both their surprise, so did Amelia; delighting them both with her little giggle.

Mary lovingly stroked her baby's cheek as she smiled down at her, "Yes darling, your daddy is as much of a drama queen as Sherlock Holmes!"

Later that evening, after Amelia had fallen asleep, Molly and Mary were sitting on the sofa discussing what it was like to be married to their husbands.

"I've not known Sherlock for nearly as long as you and John have, so I can't exactly form an opinion about him except from what I have personally seen and from what John has told me. But I can honestly say this, Sherlock has changed. And that change has most definitely been brought about by you. You've made him more human."  
Molly sat for a moment, taking in Mary's words as she rubbed her hand over her belly.

"I didn't try to change him. I didn't ask him to change. But I cannot deny that he is different. I don't know what I did."  
Mary smiled at her, "It's called love. It does things to people. Whether you want it to, or not, it will change you. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst. In this case, for the better."

Molly returned the smile, but it quickly turned into a frown, "Sometimes I wonder if I've completely lost my mind. I had a crush on him for years, and for the most part he just blatantly ignored me; except for when he wanted something. I was like a puppy trailing after its master, desperate and hopeful for a treat. When I came to realize that I was actually in love with him, I also came to the realization that he would never love me back. I thought, when he asked me for my help in faking his death, that maybe there was hope. But then he left, gone for two whole years. I never heard from him, not once. So I forced myself to let him go. I had to move on. I found Tom, and I was happy for a time, I'm quite certain that I would have married him if –"

"Sherlock hadn't come back."

Molly nodded, wiping away the few tears that had fallen, "Seeing him again, after such a long time, it made all my feelings for him just flood back in. I couldn't deny them any longer. So I ended it with Tom. Accepting the fact that if I couldn't be with Sherlock, than I wouldn't be with anyone. That I would just turn into a crazy old cat lady."

She gave a little nod towards Toby who was asleep curled up in Sherlock's chair.

"I don't know how I missed it. Perhaps I was so wrapped up in my own feelings for him that I never once caught on to his feelings for me."

"Well, he's not exactly the poster child for expressing emotion."

Molly laughed slightly, "No. Definitely not. Although he has gotten much better with that. But honestly, if I hadn't called him that night, I don't know if anything would have ever happened between us."

Mary leaned back into the cushions, clearly trying not to smile, "Oh, trust me, he would have come around eventually."

Molly gave her a quizzical look, "What do you mean?"

"Sherlock used to come to our flat constantly, driving us both completely bonkers. He wouldn't shut up about you, and when John finally yelled at him and told him that he needed to let you know how he felt … well let me just say that the look on Sherlock's face was that of complete bewilderment. I don't think he was entirely aware of what he was doing. For being a man that can see what other's don't, he is completely blind when it comes to his own feelings. But trust me Molly, he would have eventually told you, even without your helpful little push."

Molly found herself smiling, "He probably would have strut into the morgue in his usual way, started rattling off deductions and amidst that blurt out that he would like to have coffee with me."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. That's how I first asked him out. Black, two sugars. I don't think I'll ever forget that."

Mary shook her head, "Well, all I can say is thank God you two finally got together. I've never seen such a pair of mopes!"

"Mopes? I didn't mope!"

"Uhh … yes you did! I think for the most part people just thought of it as your being upset that your engagement ended. John and I of course knew the truth. It was wonderful dealing with two pouty babies. And no, Amelia doesn't pout."

Molly started to laugh, covering her face with her hands, "Oh God! I'm so sorry about that! But, hang on, than why were you both so surprised we got married?" She dropped her hands away from her face and looked at Mary.

"Well … we were hoping you two would get together. We just didn't exactly expect you both, Sherlock especially, to go that far that quickly. I guess we really shouldn't have been surprised though, when does Sherlock ever do anything in a remotely normal fashion?"

Molly laughed again, "No, of course not. But we had wasted so much time already we just felt that it was so stupid to waste anymore time."

"Was the baby planned?"

"Mmm… no. And I honestly never thought that Sherlock would want to become a father … but he seems really excited."

Mary started to giggle, "You two are going to be the strangest parents! 'My mummy cuts up dead people and my daddy solves murders!' Oh, teachers are going to love you!"

Molly rolled her eyes, "It's not like what your daughter will be saying is any better! 'My mummy used to be an assassin and my daddy was in the army and he now solves crimes with Sherlock Holmes!"

The two dissolved into laughter. When they at last ran out of breath they leaned back into the sofa, breathing heavily.

"We are most definitely some of the most un-normal people."

Mary sighed, "And I wouldn't want to have it any other way!"

The following afternoon Mary was busy feeding Amelia and Molly was sitting in Sherlock's chair reading over what she had written so far with her paper. Her phone lit up, the text tone going off. She grabbed it up, shocked to find that it was from Sherlock.

"How are you? Did you sleep well? You're remembering to eat, aren't you? –SH"

Molly rolled her eyes, laughing to herself as she typed out a reply.

"I'm doing fine. I didn't sleep anywhere near as well as I do when you are here and yes, I am remembering to eat. –M"

"I miss you. –SH"

She smiled.

"I miss you too. Come back as soon as you can. –M"

"I will. –SH"

Just as she was laying her phone back down she heard the doorbell ring. A few moments alter she heard Mrs. Hudson answer the door, then footsteps coming up the stairs. She stood up from the chair just as Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"You've got a visitor dear."

Judging by the look on her face, Molly knew who exactly her visitor was.

"Mycroft! How lovely to see you! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

He stepped into the flat, umbrella in hand, looking about him.

"Hello Molly, I see that you've … it looks different."

"Mmm… yeah… I guess I did alter a few things."

"I am here to bring … ahh … here she is!"

Mrs. Holmes came walking up the stairs, "Honestly Mike! You should have had the decency to help me bring some of this up!" In her hands were two large bags.

"Isn't my driver Alfred, helping you?"

"Well yes, but you could have helped as well!"

Molly looked between the two of them.

"No Anthea?"

Mycroft silenced her with a look.

"Mrs. Holmes, I'm so happy to see you!" Molly walked forwards, only now taking notice of what Mrs. Holmes was holding. _Baby things. _

"Please dear, I've already asked you to call me Viola!" She gave Molly a kiss on the cheek, "I'm so sorry Siger couldn't come, his hip has started bothering him again!"

"What is all of this?" Molly asked as Alfred came up the stairs depositing several boxes.

"I wanted to bring you these things sooner, but it turned out to be a lot harder to find it all in the attic. These are the some of Sherlock's things from when he was a baby. Seeing as you are having a girl not all of it is appropriate, but there are some things that I am sure you can use."

"Oh Viola! This is wonderfully sweet of you! Thank you!"

They shared a hug.

Molly gave a sly look at Mycroft, "Did you plan this because you knew that Sherlock wouldn't be here?"

He simply tapped the tip of his umbrella on the floor. Mary came down the stairs, holding Amelia.

"Oh, hello Mycroft!"

A little while later Molly, Mary and Viola were sitting on the sofa. Viola was sitting in the middle, with Molly and Mary on either side of her. She held a large photo album in her lap.

"This is Sherlock when he was six, he had become positively obsessed with wanting to be a pirate! He was quite theatrical."

Mary and Molly giggled.

"Oh thank goodness Mike has already left, he would have my head if he knew this photo was still in existence!"

Mary and Molly erupted into laughter, Viola soon joining them. The photo was of a very young Mycroft holding Sherlock in his arms, both of them dressed as pirates. When the laughter died down, Viola grew quiet, deep in thought.

"I'm not entirely sure that this is in Mycroft's album, I'll have to check with Anthea."

"Oh, Mycroft has an album too?" Molly asked.

"Oh yes, I snuck it off to Anthea a few months ago when I took out Sherlock's. Mycroft doesn't know of course."

"So you know about him and Anthea than?"

"Of course I do! Mycroft may be the British Government but he cannot hide anything from me! He still thinks I haven't a clue!"

Molly hid her smile behind her hand.

"Oh Molly dear, where is your ring?"

She looked down at her bare hand, "I had to take it off, my fingers have gotten so swollen. But don't worry, I have it right here." She pulled a chain out from under her shirt, revealing the ring.

"I know that I said it before, but I am so very glad that Sherlock found you. I worried about him for so long; he's never been one to take care of himself very well." Viola looked at Mary, "John helped him in so many ways, but you Molly," She turned to her, "you've brought about such a change in him. You have made my son the man that he always should have been. Thank you."

Molly gave her a tender hug.

"And make sure that he takes care of you as well! You are not his slave!"

"Oh don't worry Viola, he takes very good care of me, and I know how to keep him in line!"

The three women giggled.


	7. Part 7

So sorry for the long wait! My Aunt came to visit so I had no time on the computer and I now have a new kitten that requires a lot of care and attention. Anyway, here is the seventh and final installment. And guess what?! There will be a sequel!

* * *

Her lips were not parted.

Her mouth was not poised to speak.

The only sound that came from her was an annoyed exhale of air through her nose.

_Sherlock bloody Holmes!_

Molly had been out of sorts for almost over a week now. Her emotions had been in all over the place, angry one minute, crying the next.

Her lips formed a thin straight line as she slammed shut her desk drawer, nearly closing her finger in it.

A text. He had sent a text. A bloody text! Didn't have the gall to actually call her. And she knew why. She very well knew why. He was a coward.

He knew she would be angry with him. He knew how she would sputter and stumble over her words. Which is why he sent a text.

Sherlock Holmes couldn't face the wrath of his own wife!

And he very well deserved it. Running off to Northern England for a case! For who knows how long, without even a kiss goodbye.

Standing up from her desk she forced herself to take several deep, long breaths. How on earth was it that she could still be fuming about this a week later? She had never been one to hold onto anger, knowing that it was extremely unhealthy, but lately she seemed to have absolutely no control over her emotions whatsoever.

He was sending her texts every day, updating her on the progress of the case, letting her know that he was all right. But never once did he call. Still too much of a coward.

She would always answer the texts, but with short, quick replies.

If it hadn't been for her work, and the occasional dinner with John and Mary, she feared she might have gone quite insane. Something was sending her into overdrive. And she knew it wasn't just Sherlock running off for a case; there was something else, but what she couldn't quite put her finger on.

The oddest things made her weepy. Things that a normal person would not cry over. But Molly Holmes was not normal. How could she be? Married to the great Sherlock Holmes. She had to not be normal to have agreed to marry him!

The strangest things made her angry. For most, it would make them happy or possibly a bit sad, but for her, she got angry. The only way to ebb down this anger was by eating far too much take away for such a petite being.

She didn't like how empty Baker Street felt without him there. She found herself, more often than not, going for walks to avoid the empty, barrenness of the flat.

A day into the second week without him there, she contracted a stomach virus. She now had no choice but to stay at home. Mrs. Hudson kept an eye on her. Made sure she kept herself hydrated. She wanted to call Sherlock to let him know that his wife was feeling unwell, but wasn't certain that this would be a good thing to do while he was working on a case. He wasn't a man for distractions. Instead she contacted John.

He came to check on Molly. Only to discover something rather surprising. He kicked himself mentally for not having caught onto it sooner. Once again, he saw but did not observe. He chose to keep his observations to himself.

John was explicitly vague when he spoke to Sherlock. This frustrated Sherlock to no end. If he had been face to face with him, he would have deduced it within a matter of seconds. But only hearing his voice over the phone was not enough.

"Come home, and figure it out yourself." With that said, John hung up. Sherlock fumed silently. He needed to solve this case, _now._

Molly was asleep on the couch when he at last came home, late in the evening. It had been exactly two weeks since he had seen her. The case had taken him as far north in England as you could possibly go. But he had solved it. Of course.

He wanted nothing more than to wake her up, carry her into their bedroom and show her how much he had missed her, but something was stopping him from doing so.

Something about her was different.

He stood there looking down at her for several minutes, deducing her entirely. His mouth popped open when the realization of what it was, hit him. He didn't move.

She stirred in her sleep, mumbling softly. When he heard her speak his name he blinked rapidly, coming back. Shrugging off his coat and tugging off his scarf, he tossed them onto his chair before slipping off his shoes and his suit jacket.

She was still asleep when he stretched out his long form alongside of her. She instantly curled her body into his warmth, her hands clutching onto his shirt. He put his arm around her protectively, kissing the top of her head.

"Sh-Sherlock?" Her voice was thick.

He smiled down at her as she blinked sleepily at him.

"Happy Solving?"

"Yes."

He kissed her.

"Happier to be here with you though."

"Mmmm…"

She must have been more asleep than awake, to not have some sarcastic, angry remark for him. He knew that she was upset with him for leaving so suddenly; her texts had been proof enough. He did feel rather terrible about that; especially now that he knew of her situation. He should not have left her for so long.

A sudden wave of emotions crashed over him. Yes, he was most definitely a changed man. And it was simply because of her.

"Molly, Molly, Molly, my sweet darling Molly!" He murmured into her skin as he placed kisses along the side of her face.

"Sweet darling? You never use pet names!" She cupped his face in her hands, pulling him away from her so that she could look into his eyes. All she found there was sheer joy and happiness, "Sherlock, what is it?"

"Molly … don't you know?"

"Know what?"

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her mouth, when he pulled away he was still beaming, "Molly, you're pregnant."

THE END


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